i^L^ 


HelMA.TlO'NS 


THE   BALLET   OF   THE 
NATIONS 


Essays  on 
Places. 


,  >  Essays 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

GOSPELS    OF    ANARCHY. ■>     Philosophical  Essays  on 

VITAL   LIES.  J         Modern  Tendencies. 

GENIUS  LOCI. 

THE  SENTIMENTAL  TRAVELLER. 

THE  ENCHANTED  WOODS. 

THE  TOWER  OF  THE  MIRRORS. 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  ROME. 

LIMBO. 

HORTUS  VIT^.. 

HAUNTINGS.         ^ 

VANITAS.  [  Stories. 

POPE    JACYNTH.J 

LOUIS  NORBERT.  -j 

OTTILIE.  I    Novels. 

PENELOPE  BRANDLING.) 

ARIADNE  IN  MANTUA.     Play. 

WORKS  ON  ART 

STUDIES   OF  THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY  IN 

ITALY. 
EUPHORION. 
RENAISSANCE  STUDIES. 
BEAUTY  AND  UGLINESS. 
LAURUS  NOBILIS. 
LIFE  AND  ART. 
THE  BEAUTIFUL.     Cambridge  Universily  Manuals. 


THE   BALLET   OF 
THE    NATIONS 


A    PRESENT-DAY    MORALITY 

by  VERNON  LEE 

mth  a  PICTORIAL   COMMENTARY 
by  MAXWELL    ARMFIELD 


IVhat  is  the  Sorriest  thing  that  enters  Hell? 
Not  any  of  the  Sins  .   .    . 

D.    G.    ROSSETTI. 


NEW  YORK 
G.   P.   PUTNAM'S  SONS 

MCMXV 


.~\ 


SRLF 
URL 


A 


ROMAIN    ROLLAND 

fraternellement 

V.L. 

et  in  terra  pax  hominibus  bonae  voluntatis 
le  4  Aotit  1 9 1 5 


2043735 


THE   BALLET   OF  THE  NATIONS 

"C^OR  a  quarter  or  so  of  a  century,  Death's  celebrated  Dances  had  gone 
rather  out  of  fashion. 

Then,  with  the  end  of  the  proverbially  bourgeois  Victorian  age, 
there  set  in  a  revival  of  taste,  and  therefore  of  this  higher  form  of  tragic 
art,  combining,  as  it  does,  the  truest  classical  tradition  with  the  romantic 
attractions  of  the  best  Middle  Ages.  In  South  Africa  and  the  Far  East, 
and  then  in  the  Near  East  quite  recently,  the  well-known  Ballet-Master 
Death  had  staged  some  of  his  vastest  and  most  successful  productions. 

"  It  is  time,"  said  Satan,  the  Lessee  of  the  World,  to  "  re-open  the 
Theatre  of  the  West.  The  Politicians  and  Armament  Shareholders  have 
long  got  all  the  stage-property  in  readiness,  and  the  Scene-Shifters  of  the 
Press  are  only  waiting  for  the  signal." 

"Your  orders  shall  have  my  very  best  attention,"  answered  Ballet- 
Master  Death,  "  for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear  Lord  Satan,  this 
West,  with  its  Doctors  and  Economists  and  Trade  Unions,  is  fast  losing 
the  habit  of  those  sublimer  forms  of  Art  of  which  Aristotle  pithily  remarks, 
that  they  purge  the  world  of  its  inhabitants  by  terror  and  pity.  I  myself 
will  answer  for  the  Dancers,  if  you  will  see  to  getting  an  adequate 
orchestra  ;  for,  as  you  are  aware,  Death  himself  cannot  set  the  Nations 


dancing,  still  less  keep  up  the  dance,  without  the  Music  of  the  Passions.' 

"  That  shall  be  my  business,"  said  Satan,  the  World's  immortal 
Impresario  ;  "let  us  lose  no  time." 

The  first  Instrumentalist  whom  they  called  upon  was  Self- Interest, 
who  is  usually  engaged  to  play  the  ground-bass  of  Human  Life.  But 
he  had  joined  a  Trade  Union.  "I  am  busy,"  yawned  Self-Interest,  "come 
some  other  day" ;  and  he  turned  upon  his  ear,  and  dreamed  of  recon- 
stituting Society  upon  a  broader  basis. 

"  Self-interest  was  always  a  dull  dog  ;  not  a  particle  of  divine  fire 
in  him"  grumbled  Death.  "  What  was  the  good  of  wasting  time  on  such 
a  fellow  ?  " 

"  May  I  remark  that  you  Skeletons  are  apt  to  be  a  trifle  testy?" 
answered  Satan,  quite  unruffled  in  his  delicate  iron  wings.  "  Don't  you 
see  that  by  knocking  at  Self- Interest's  door,  I  have  brought  Fear,  that 
over- retiring  old  slut,  to  her  window?  Hi!  Widow  Fear,  it's  only  a 
couple  of  old  friends  inviting  you  to  a  little  entertainment.  Come  down, 
my  dear,  and  bring  some  of  your  ungraceful  but  amusing  offspring." 

So  Fear,  squalid  beyond  all  other  Passions,  came  down,  hesitating 
just  a  little,  because  she  had  heard  Self- Interest  refuse  the  invitation. 
But  she  was  speedily  dragged  along  by  her  shabby,  restless  twins, 


■il{ 


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Suspicion  and  Panic ;  and  the  family  carried  penny-whistles  and  fog- 
horns and  a  cracked  storm-and-massacre  bell,  genuine  mediaeval  but 
wrapped  in  yesterday's  Daily  Mail  and  Globe. 

"  Rather  an  unpresentable  lot,  though  such  first-rate  performers," 
mused  Satan  ;  "we  must  have  something  handsome  to  make  up  for 
them,  for  the  Nations  have  grown  dreadfully  superfine  of  late,  and  some 
of  the  other  indispensable  members  of  the  band  aren't  very  attractive 
either.  Deign  to  join  our  little  amateur  orchestra,"  he  cried  in  a  fine 
round  voice,  and  rustling  his  arch-angelic  wings  ceremoniously,  "  dear 
my  Lady  Idealism  and  my  young  Prince  Adventure."  And  the  couple, 
bride  and  bridegroom,  came  out  of  their  palace  of  cloud  and  sunbeams  ; 
very  magnificent  they  were,  and  of  noblest  bearing,  if  a  little  over- 
dressed. Idealism  carried  a  silver  trumpet  and  Adventure  a  woodland 
horn.  There  came  also  Death's  mother  (or  wife,  for  their  family 
relations  are  best  not  inquired  into)  Sin,  whom  the  gods  call  Disease  ; 
nor  was  there  any  need  of  calling  her.  With  her  came  her  well-known 
crew.  Rapine,  Lust,  Murder  and  Famine,  fitted  out  with  bull-roarers 
and  rattles  and  other  cannibalic  instruments. 

"Here  comes  Hatred  with  Self- Righteousness,"  said  Satan,  nodding 
in  the  direction  of  a  pair  who  pretended  not  to  be  acquainted,  but  were 


nevertheless  hurrying  together  out  of  the  Inn  of  Vanity,  and  trundling 
between  them  a  huge  double-bass  and  a  small  harmonium,  upon  which, 
once  they  had  taken  place,  side  by  side,  Self- Righteousness,  most 
obligingly,  gave  Hatred  his  right  pitch. 

"  That'll  do  to  begin  with,"  cried  Death,  who  was  always  in  a  hurry. 
"  Heroism  is  sure  to  join  as  soon  as  we  have  well  begun  ;  and  he  can 
be  plopped  down  anywhere.  See!  here  come  the  Dancers!  Just  strike 
up  a  bit ;  Fear  and  you  ;  Idealism  ;  and  you.  Hatred,  growl  on  the  deep 
string  ;  just  a  bar  or  two  to  make  the  Nations  hurry  up  and  get  over 
that  tiresome  mauvaise  honte  of  theirs." 

npHE  Nations  had  meanwhile  assembled,  each  brilliant  and  tidy  in 
its  ballet  dress,  which  was  far  better  cut,  and  of  handsomer  stuff,  of 
course,  than  its  everyday  broad-cloth  or  rags.  And  Idealism  and 
Adventure,  Hatred  and  Self- Righteousness,  were  already  busy  tuning, 
for  unlike  the  rest  of  the  orchestra  they  were  sticklers  for  correctness, 
when  Ballet-Master  Death's  preliminary  instructions  were  cut  short  by 
the  appearance  of  an  unsuspected  and  very  odd  pair  of  additional 
musicians.  For  while  the  rest  of  the  band  were  dressed,  or  in  some 
cases  undressed,  in  classical,  mediaeval,  biblical  or  savage  costumes,  these 
two  were  habited  in  a  manner  uncompromisingly  modern,  the  one  like  a 


city  clerk  who  should  have  joined  the  Red  Cross,  and  the  other,  who  was 
a  lady,  in  the  spectacles  and  smock  most  commonly  seen  in  laboratories. 

"  Get  out  with  you! "  yelled  Ballet- Master  Death,  jumping  from  his 
stool  at  the  sight  of  the  new-comers;  and,  turning  to  his  orchestra,  "Kick 
them  out !  Kick  out  the  new-fangled  intruders  who  want  to  spoil  our 
fun  !  Knock  them  down  !  Trample  on  them  !  Don't  you  see  they  are 
alien  spies  ?     Spies  in  the  service  of  Life  and  Progress  1 " 

"  Hush,  hush!"  answered  Satan,  with  an  arch-angelic  gesture  which 
sent  all  the  orchestra  cowering  to  their  places,  and  temporarily  paralysed 
the  skeleton  arm  of  Death.  "Which  of  us  is  master  here,  I  wonder? 
Will  you  never  learn  manners,  you  bony  old  relic  of  the  Stone  Age,  with 
your  rabble  of  instruments  fit  for  an  ethnological  museum  .•*  "  Then, 
turning  to  the  new-comers,  "  Please  excuse  his  country  manners,  dear 
Madam  Science  and  dear  Councillor  Organisation.  You  know  the  habits 
of  Skeletons,  their  skulls  are  inevitably  empty !  " 

"  Pray  don't  mention  it,  my  Lord,"  answered  Science,  who  had  a 
first-rate  gramophone  tucked  under  her  arm,  ''  qui  sait  comprendre  sait 
tout  pardonner,  so  it  is  part  of  my  professional  duty  to  find  excuses  for 
your  Ballet- Master's  behaviour  towards  us." 

"  It's  all  as  it  should  be,"  added  Organisation,  who  had  begun  un- 


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packing  a  very  handy  miniature  pianola  and  its  various  rollers.  "Of 
course  Science  and  I  are  permanently  in  the  service  of  Life  and  Progress. 
But  that  firm  is  worthing  slack  at  present,  so  we  feel  at  liberty  to  take 
a  temporary  engagement." 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  conducive  to  the  success  of  our  Ballet  " 
answered  Satan,  pressing  their  hands  affectionately  but  lightly  between 
his  claws,  which  Science  took  this  opportunity  of  examining;  "and  I 
only  hope  our  collaboration  may  become  permanent.  Of  course  Death, " 
and  he  lowered  his  arch-angelic  voice  to  the  politest  whisper,  "  is  netting 
a  bit  old  for  his  job  and  dreadfully  prejudiced.  Besides,  I  fearTt  can't 
be  denied  that  you  have  done  one  or  two  things  which  have  made  ignorant 
people  gossip  in  a  manner  calculated  to  rub  him  the  wrong  way.  Come 
here,  you  peppery  old  Ballet- Master,"  and  Satan  playfully  sent  an 
electric  stream  through  the  Skeleton  which  sent  him  shivering  and  rattling 
like  a  brake  of  dry  reeds,  "  come  and  shake  hands  with  this  illustrious 
lady  and  gentleman,  who  will  keep  up  our  Ballet  with  their  wonderful 
mechanical  instruments  when  the  rest  of  our  classic  band  have  neither 
breath  nor  strings  left.  And  now,  as  soon  as  our  new  friends  are  seated 
m  the  front  place  they  deserve,  please  begin  your  instructions.  And, 
by  the  way,  you  haven't  yet  given  out  the  title  of  our  new  Ballet." 


"  ^  I  'HIS  Ballet  of  ours,"  began  Death,  after  rapping  three  times  on  his 
desk,  "is  called  the  Ballet  of  the  Nations.  Nothing  very  new  in  the 
title,  but  one  that  always  draws.  As  regards  instructions,  long  experience 
has  taught  me  that  I  can  leave  both  my  orchestra  and  my  corps  de  ballet 
— the  Nations  at  present  have  all  got  excellent  heads — to  their  own  in- 
spiration, provided  only  they  will  keep  their  eyes  constantly  fixed  on  my 
baton.  The  more  they  depart  from  the  regulation  steps,  cutting  capers 
according  to  circumstances  and  inventing  terrifically  new  figures,  the 
more  they  will  find,  odd  as  it  may  appear,  that  their  vis-a-vis  as  well 
as  their  partners  will  respond  ;  and  the  more  indissolubly  interlocked  will 
become  the  novel  and  majestic  pattern  of  destruction  which  their  gory  but 
indefatigable  limbs  are  weaving  for  the  satisfaction  of  our  enlightened 
Stage- Lessee,  my  Lord  Satan,  and  the  admiration  of  History.  As  to 
the  music,  all  that  is  wanted  is  that  the  rythm  be  well  marked,  the  dis- 
cords plentiful  but  adequately  relieved  by  allied  harmonies  and  powerful 
national  unisons  ;  and  that  our  Orchestra  of  Human  Passions  should 
refresh  itself  with  strong  spirits  as  often  as  is  compatible  with  not  falling 
asleep.  The  scheme  of  the  Ballet  is  very  simple,  and  its  variety  arises 
out  of  the  great  number — I  hope  I  may  say  the  constantly  increasing 
number — of  Dancing  Nations.     The  main  motif  is,  of  course — for  we 


are  thoroughly  up  to  date,  although  our  dear  Impresario  does  not  give  us 
credit  for  it — the  main  theme  is  that  each  Nation  is  repelling  the  aggres- 
sion of  its  vis-a-vis,  and  at  the  same  time  defending  its  partner.  There  are 
two  minor  themes  of  outstanding  Dancers  flying  to  the  rescue  of  the  main 
groups:  the  two  themes  together  giving  rise  to  all  manner  of  surprising 
inventions.  It  is,  I  need  scarcely  say,  very  conducive  to  a  fine  effect 
that  all  the  Nations  should  keep  a  strictly  innocent  expression  of  counte- 
nance, while  endeavouring  to  tear  off  as  much  of  the  costume  and  orna- 
ments, and  lop  off  as  many  as  possible  of  the  limbs  of  their  vis-a-vis. 
At  the  end  of  the  main  action  the  Chief  Dancers  may  be  called  upon 
to  shift  sides  or  take  part  in  a  general  breakdown  of  a  highly  modern  and 
anarchical  style,  something  like  the  Paris  impromptu  aher  the  pas  de  deux 
of  1870,  only  on  a  vast  scale.     And  now !  the  first  position,  please !  " 

"  One  moment !  "  cried  Satan  ;  "  I'm  sorry  to  be  always  interrupting, 
but  what  about  Heroism  ?  He's  sure  to  join,  and  where  shall  we  place 
him  when  he  turns  up?  " 

"  Oh,  just  anywhere,"  whispered  Ballet-Master  Death ;  "he  is  always 
the  most  obliging  of  my  orchestra,  although  he  usually  comes  in  after 
we  have  begun.  And  not  a  bit  difficult  to  please,  like  Idealism  and  even 
Adventure,     //e  won't  mind  sitting  alongside  that  filthy  slut  Fear,  or 


surrounded  by  the  cannibal  music  of  the  Companions  of  Sin.  But  here 
he  comes!"  For  at  that  moment  there  entered  Heroism,  with  limbs 
like  a  giant,  blushes  like  a  girl,  and  merry  eyes  like  a  child's. 

"  Welcome,  Heroism,  our  Prince  of  Tenors,"  cried  Satan,  with  sham 
cordiality,  for  there  was  no  love  lost  between  the  new-comer  and  himself, 
although  Heroism  was  sincerely  attached  to  Death.  '*  We  were  just 
saying,  my  dear  young  friend,  that  there  is  nothing  you  shrink  from, 
and  that  you  are  the  most  modest  and  reliable  of  our  orchestra.  Why, 
I  remember  the  French  Revolution  Ballet,  when  Heroism  and  Panic 
played  not  only  a  duet,  but  at  the  same  instrument,  four  hands !  That 
was  Lessee  Satan's  finest  Ballet  hitherto,  with  the  Marat  theme  in  Paris 
and  the  Hoche  theme  on  the  frontier.  But,  with  good-will,  this  new 
dance  of  our  Ballet- Master  Death  may  be  still  finer  and  as  long." 

Death  smiled,  for  he  loved  Heroism. 

"  Come  here,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "  you  have  always  been  dutiful  and 
loving  to  your  old  daddy  Death,  and  cared  for  him  more  than  for  any 
other  of  the  Immortals."  So  saying,  the  Skeleton  Ballet-Master  tapped 
the  budding  cheeks  of  Heroism,  that  star-like  youth,  with  eyes  which 
laughed  but  saw  not,  for  even  as  his  cousin  Love,  he  is  blind  from  the 
cradle.     And  Heroism,  at  the  sound  of  Death's  well-known  voice,  kissed 


his  bony  fingers  with  rapture ;  and,  grasping  the  drum  with  which  he 
accompanies  his  heavenly  voice,  sat  down  obedient  between  Fear  and 
Hatred,  unconscious  of  their  foulness. 

'T'HE  way  the  Ballet  began  was  this  :  Among  the  Nations  appointed 
by  Satan  to  dance,  for  a  few  had  to  be  kept  to  swell  the  audience, 
which  would  otherwise  have  consisted  only  of  sundry  sleepy  Virtues  and 
of  the  Centuries-to-Come,  which  are  notoriously  bodiless  and  difficult  to 
please — among  those  Dancing  Nations  there  was  a  very  little  one,  far 
too  small  to  have  danced  with  the  others,  and  particularly  unwilling  to 
dance  at  all,  because  it  knew  by  experience  that  the  dances  of  Ballet- 
Master  Death  oftenest  took  place  upon  its  prostrate  body.  So  it  was 
told,  as  it  always  had  been  told,  it  need  do  nothing  but  stay  quite  quiet 
for  the  others  to  dance  round.  And  as  it  stood  there,  in  the  middle  of 
the  Western  Stage,  two  or  three  of  the  tallest  and  finest  Dancers  danced- 
up  in  a  silent  step,  smiling,  wreathing  their  arms  and  blowing  kisses, 
all  of  which  is  the  ballet-language  for  "  Don't  be  afraid,  we  will  protect 
you,"  and  danced  away  again  wagging  their  finger  at  a  particular  one 
of  their  vis-i-vis,  who  was  also  curtsying  and  smiling  in  the  most  engag- 
ing manner  on   the  other  side.     During  this  prelude   Idealism,  Self- 


11 

r^ 

r  A^  jVWa^ 

T^^M  T^^M  r 

fa^I 

Righteousness  and  a  one-eyed  hidden  Fiddler  called  Statecraft,  played 
a  few  conventional  variations  on  the  well-known  diplomatic  hymn  to 
Peace,  to  which  the  Nations  pirouetted  unconcernedly  about,  although 
Fear,  with  Suspicion  and  Panic,  were  beginning  to  whistle  and  to  thump 
on  that  mediaeval  tocsin-bell  concealed  in  greasy  newspapers. 

And  as  the  Smallest-of-all-the-Corps-de-Ballet  stood  quite  alone  in 
the  middle  of  the  Western  Stage,  that  same  tall  and  very  well-trained 
Dancer  sidled  up  to  it  with  polite  gestures  of  "  by  your  leave,"  and, 
suddenly  placing  his  colossal  horny  paws  on  the  Tiny  One's  shoulders, 
prepared  for  leap-frog.     But  at  a  sign  from  Death's  baton,  and  with  a 
hideous  crash  of  all  the  instruments  of  Satan's  orchestra,  and  a  magnifi- 
cent note  from  Heroism's  clear  voice,  the  poor  Smallest- Dancer-of- All 
tripped  up  that  Giant  and  made  him  reel.     But  the  Giant  instantly 
recovered  his  feet,  although  his  eyes  became  bloodshot  and  his  brain 
swam.     And,  flinging  the  poor  Smallest-Dancer  on  the  floor,  he  set  to 
performing  on  its  poor  little  body  one  of  the  most  terrific  pas  seu/s  that 
Ballet- Master  Death  had  ever  invented,  while  the  vis-^-vis   Nations 

▲4. 

danced  slowly  up,  till  they  all  came  to  grips  over  that  Smallest-of-all- 
the- Dancers,  who  lay  prone  on  the  ground,  and  continued  so  to  lie, 
pounded  out  of  all  human  shape  into  a  dancing-mat  for  the  others. 


"  This  first  figure  of  our  Ballet,"  said  the  world's  Impresario  Satan, 
rising  from  his  seat  and  bowing  to  the  audience,  that  is  to  say,  the 
Nations  who  wouldn't  dance,  and  the  sleepy  Virtues  and  the  Centuries- 
to-Come ;  "this  first  figure  of  our  Ballet  is  called  The  Defence  of  the  Weak. 
It  will  continue  unremittingly  at  the  Western  End  of  the  Stage,  while  the 
Eastern  End  is  occupied  by  a  not  entirely  symmetrical  (for  symmetry  is 
apt  to  be/^rt'i?)  choreographic  invention  called  the  Steam- Roller  Movement  y 
which  will  end  up  in  the  Triumph  of  such  small  Nationalities  (and  I 
sincerely  hope  many  will  join!)  as  may  have  any  limbs  left  to  dance  with." 

TOURING  this  first  figure  of  the  Ballet  the  scenery  of  that  Western 
End  of  the  Stage  had  undergone  a  slow  change,  and  continued 
changing  in  a  manner  such  that  the  Ages-to-Come,  seated  among  the 
audience,  admitted  to  one  another  these  new  scenic  displays  surpassed 
all  others  with  which  the  courtesy  of  Satan  had  wiled  away  their  ennui. 
For,  whereas  the  Ballet  had  begun  with  the  tender  radiance  of  an 
August  sunset  above  half-harvested  fields,  where  the  reaping  machines 
hummed  peacefully  among  the  corn-stooks  and  the  ploughs  cut  into  the 
stubble,  the  progress  of  the  performance  had  seen  the  deep  summer 
starlit  vault  lit  up  by  the  flare  of  distant  blazing  farms,  and  its  blue 


solemnity  rent  by  the  fitful  rocket-tracks  of  shells  and  the  Roman-candles 
and  Catherine-wheels  of  far-off  explosions.  Until,  little  by  little,  the 
heavens,  painted  such  a  peaceful  blue,  were  blotted  out  by  volumes  of 
flamelit  smoke  and  poisonous  vapours,  rising  and  sinking,  coming  forward 
and  receding  like  a  stifling  fog,  but  ever  growing  denser  and  more  blind- 
ing, and  swaying  obedient  to  Death's  baton  no  less  than  did  the  bleeding 
Nations  of  his  Corps-de- Ballet.  In  and  out  of  that  lurid  chasm  they 
moved,  by  twos  or  threes,  now  lost  to  view  in  the  billows  of  darkness, 
now  issuing  thence  towards  the  Ballet- Master's  desk;  or  suddenly 
revealed,  clasped  in  terrific  embrace,  by  the  meteor- curve  of  a  shell  or 
the  leaping  flame  of  an  exploding  munition-magazine,  while  overhead 
fluttered  and  whirred  great  wings  which  showered  down  bomb-lightnings. 
Backwards  and  forwards  moved  the  Dancers  in  that  changing  play  of  light 
and  darkness,  and  undergoing  uncertain  and  fearful  changes  of  aspect. 
Since,  you  should  know,  that  Nations,  contrary  to  the  opinion  of 
Politicians,  are  immortal.  Just  as  the  Gods  of  Valhalla  could  slash  each 
other  to  ribbons  after  breakfast  and  resurrect  for  dinner,  so  every  Nation 
can  dance  Death's  Dance  however  much  bled  and  maimed,  dance  upon 
stumps,  or  trail  itself  along,  a  living  jelly  of  blood  and  trampled  flesh,  pro- 
viding only  it  has  its  Head  fairly  unhurt.     And  that  Head,  which  each 


Nation  calls  its  Government,  but  the  other  Nations  call  "  France,"  or 
"Russia,"  or  "Britain," or  "Germany,"  or  "Austria"  for  short,  that  Head 
of  each  Dancing  Nation  (except  that  of  the  Smallest-Dancer,  who  never 
ceased  being  prostrate  on  the  ground)  is  very  properly  helmetted,  and 
rarely  gets  so  much  as  a  scratch,  so  that  it  can  continue  to  catch  the 
Ballet- Master's  eye,  and  order  the  Nation's  body  to  put  forth  fresh  limbs, 
and,  even  when  that  is  impossible,  keep  its  stump  dancing  ever  new  figures 
in  obedience  or  disobedience  to  what  are  called  the  Rules  of  War.  This 
being  the  case,  Death  kept  up  the  dance  regardless  of  the  state  of  the 
Dancers,  and  also  of  the  state  of  the  Stage,  which  was  such  that,  what 
between  blood  and  entrails  and  heaps  of  devastated  properties,  it  was 
barely  possible  to  move  even  a  few  yards. 

Yet  dance  they  did,  lopping  each  others'  limbs  and  blinding  one 
another  with  spirts  of  blood  and  pellets  of  human  flesh.  And  as  they 
appeared  and  disappeared  in  the  moving  wreaths  of  fiery  smoke,  they 
lost  more  and  more  of  their  original  shape,  becoming,  in  that  fitful  light, 
terrible  uncertain  forms,  armless,  legless,  recognisable  for  human  only 
by  their  irreproachable-looking  heads  which  they  carried  stiff  and  high 
even  while  crawling  and  staggering  along,  lying  in  wait,  and  leaping  and 
rearing  and  butting  as  do  fighting  animals ;  until  they  became,  with  those 


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decorous  well-groomed  faces,  mere  unspeakable  hybrids  between  man 
and  beast,  they  who  had  come  on  to  the  stage  so  erect  and  beautiful. 
For  the  Ballet  of  the  Nations,  when  Satan  gets  it  up  regardless  of  ex- 
pense, is  an  unsurpassed  spectacle  of  transformations,  such  as  must  be 
witnessed  to  be  believed  in. 

Thus  on  they  danced  their  stranger  and  stranger  antics.  And,  as 
they  appeared  by  turns  in  that  chaos  of  flame  and  darkness,  each  of  those 
Dancing  Nations  kept  invoking  Satan,  crying  out  to  him,  "  Help  me, 
my  own  dear  Lord."      But  they  called  him  by  Another  Name. 

And  Satan,  that  creative  Connoisseur,  rejoiced  in  his  work  and 
saw  that  it  was  very  good. 

"  Dear  Creatures,"  he  murmured  to  himself,  where  he  throned 
invisible  above  the  audience  of  Neutral  Peoples  and  Sleepy  Virtues 
and  Ages- to-Come,  "how  true  it  is  that  great  artistic  exhibitions, 
especially  when  they  address  themselves  to  the  Group- Emotion, 
invariably  bring  home  to  the  Nations  that  there  is,  after  all,  a  Power 
transcending  their  ephemeral  existence !  Indeed  that  is  one  reason  why 
I  prefer  the  Ballet  of  the  Nations  to  any  of  the  other  mystery-plays, 
like  Earthquake  and  Pestilence,  which  Death  puts  on  our  stage  from 
time  to  time.      The  music  is  not  always   very  pretty,  at  once  too 


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archaic   and  too  ultra-modern  for  philistine  taste,  and  the  steps  are 
a  trifle  monotonous.     But  it  gives  immense  scope  for  moral  beauty, 
and  revives  religious  feeling  in  all  its  genuine  primeval  polytheism. 
It  answers  perfectly  to  what  the  Spaniards  call  an  Auto  Sacramental,  a 
sacred  drama  having  all  the  attractions  of  a  bull-fight.    I  grant  the  Heads 
of  the  Nations  are  occasionally  a  bit  hard-featured.     But  the  Bodies  of 
the  Nations  are  always  sound  and  virginal  ;  and  their  heart  is  always  in 
the  right  place.     And  for  true  sublimity,"  purred  Satan  gently  on  his 
invisible  throne,  "  give  me,  I  always  say,  one  of  Death's  dances  performed 
by  Nations  each  with  its  heart  absolutely  in  the  right  place,  and  perfectly 
obedient  to  its  traditional  Head." 

So  the  Ballet  went  on.     But  for  this  it  was  necessary  to  keep 
up  the    music    of  that    orchestra  of  Passions  and    Habits   which  sat 
around  the  slippery  and  reeking  stage  :  Widow  Fear  with  her  nimble 
children.  Suspicion  and  Panic,  playing  on  penny-whistles,  foghorns  and 
that  mediaeval  tocsin-bell  in  its  wrapper  of  newspapers  ;  Idealism  and 
Adventure,  that  splendid  pair,  blowing  their  silver  trumpet  and  wood- 
land horn  ;   Hatred,  who  was  always  tuning  afresh  at  the  harmonium 
of  Self- Righteousness ;    Sin,  whom   the  Gods  call   Disease,   and   her 
classic  crew  Rapine,  Lust  and  Murder,  with  their  cannibal  band  of  bull- 

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roarers  and  rattles  ;  Science  and  Organisation  seated  a  little  apart,  for 
none  of  the  others  liked  their  new-fangled  looks,  but  whose  gramophone 
and  pianola  went  on  unflaggingly  when  all  the  other  musicians  began 
showing  signs  of  fatigue  ;  and  only  Heroism,  a  smile  in  his  clear  blind 
eyes,  found  ever  fresh  breath  and  ever  more  jubilant  notes. 

T  HAVE  just  said  that  the  rest  of  the  band  were  beginning  to  flag; 
either  because  the  Passions  are  notoriously  deficient  in  staying-power, 
or  because,  in  the  case  of  the  less  noble  ones,  they  had  fuddled  them- 
selves with  the  strong  liquor  of  literature  from  Satan's  tap-room,  and 
were  coming  in  all  at  random,  Suspicion  and  Panic,  notably,  deafening 
the  Heads  of  the  Nations,  and  Fear,  poor  slut,  being  seized  with  delirium 
tremens.  None  of  these  things  were  noticed  by  the  Dancers,  but  they 
danced  a  little  less  fiercely,  and  began  mistaking  their  vis-a-vis  for 
partners  and  vice  versa,  to  the  despair  of  the  Ballet- Master,  who 
wheeled  from  side  to  side  at  his  desk,  cracking  his  fleshless  joints  like 
castagnettes,  and  hitting  the  somnolent  Human  Motives  of  the  orchestra 
tremendous  whacks  with  his  baton  of  fire-hardened  root-of-prejudice. 
But  Satan  began  to  fear  lest  the  performance  might  end  untimely,  for, 
except  the  voice  of  Heroism  and  the  mechanical  instruments  of  Science 


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and  Organisation,  the  sounds  were  getting  feeble  and  intermittent,  and 
the  Nations  were  beginning  to  halt  and  stumble,  and  even  to  curtsy  to 
each  other  as  if  the  end  might  be  at  hand. 

"  This  will  never  do,"  said  Satan  to  himself  "  Why !  we  haven't  yet 
come  to  the  figure  of  Famine  and  Insurrection  !  "  So,  beckoning  with  his 
arch-angelic  claw  to  the  followers  of  Sin,  he  whispered  Rapine,  Murder 
and  Lust  to  fetch  him  two  new  players  from  among  the  Sleepy  Virtues 
of  the  Audience. 

Sleepy  indeed  they  seemed,  and  some,  like  Wisdom,  Equanimity 
and  Temperance,  let  alone  Truthfulness,  had  long  since  fallen  into  con- 
soling dreams,  after  closing  their  eyes  and  bunging-up  their  ears  against 
sights  and  sounds  repugnant  to  their  principles,  but  which  they  had  not 
grit  enough  to  interrupt.  But  among  the  Virtues  two  were  not  asleep, 
and  sat  motionless  under  the  spell  of  hideous  fascination  ;  their  eyes 
fixed,  their  hearing  intent,  with  horror  so  great  it  almost  turned  to 
pleasure.  These  two  were  called  Pity  and  Indignation,  sister  and 
brother  of  divinest  breed  ;  she,  wan  like  waters  under  moonlight  and  as 
gentle,  murmurous  and  lovely,  and  also,  like  such  waters,  dangerous  in 
her  innocence.  The  other,  golden  and  vivid  as  flame,  and  like  flame, 
tipped  with  terrible  scarlet,  purifying  but  devastating. 


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To  them,  who  were  fascinated  with  horror  before  that  dance,  there 
sprang,  at  Satan's  bidding,   Rapine,    Murder  and   Lust,   the  crew  of 
Death's  Mother- Paramour  Sin,  whom  the  Gods  call    Disease.     And 
straightway  that  noble  pair  of  twins,  Pity  and   Indignation,  responded 
to  the  hideous  summons.     Hand  in  hand  they  leaped  from  among  the 
sleeping  Virtues,  and  flew,  on  rushing  pinions,  into  the  midst  of  Satan's 
orchestra.     Fear  and  her  brood  fell  back.      Idealism  and  Adventure, 
by   this   time    wellnigh  spent  with   breathless  blowing  of  their  silver 
trumpet  and  hunting-horn,  eagerly  made  room  for  them.     Heroism,  that 
blind,  smiling  young  giant,  recognised  at  once  Pity's  delicious  healing 
breath    and    Indignation's  fiery    blast  ;    he    shook    himself,    and    with 
renewed  vigour  his  godlike  youthful  voice  sang  out  words  which  no  one 
distinguished  but  all  the  world  understood.     And  Sin,  with  her  crew, 
fell  down  at  the  new-comers'  feet  and  fawned  upon  them. 

Even  before  either  of  that  immortal  pair  had  uttered  a  sound,  the 
flagging  Dancers,  the  bleeding  Nations,  weary  of  that  stage  slippery  with 
blood  and  entrails,  felt  the  wind  of  the  wings  of  Pity  and  Indignation  ; 
and,  in  its  pure  breath,  suddenly  revived. 

The  holy  pair  required  no  instruments.       Pity  merely  sobbed,  and 

her  sobs  were  like  the  welling-up  notes  of  many  harps,  drowning  the  soul 

1 

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in  tender  madness.  But  Indignation  hissed  and  roared  like  a  burning 
granary  when  the  sparks  crackle  as  they  fly  into  the  ripe  standing  harvest, 
and  the  flames  wave  scores  of  feet  high  in  the  blast  of  their  own  making. 

Death  was  overpowered  with  delight. 

"  Now  nothing  can  stop  the  dancing,"  he  cried  ;  "  and  this  shall  yet 
be  the  greatest  triumph  of  Ballet- Master  Death  !  "  and,  rapping  on  his 
desk,  spoke  as  follows  :  "  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  dear  valiant  Nations 
of  my  Corps-de- Ballet !  we  will  now  proceed  to  the  third  and  last  figure  ; 
the  last  because,  as  you  know,  it  is  made  never  to  end!  For  it  is  called 
Revenge." 

"  You  might  have  trusted  to  me,  dear  Ballet-Master  Death,"  purred 
Satan,  the  World's  great  Stage-Lessee,  quite  softly  to  himself.  "  Pity 
and  Indignation  can  renew  Death's  dance  when  all  the  Nations  have 
danced  themselves  to  stumps,  and  the  ordinary  band,  except  perhaps 
Fear  and  her  Children,  can  fiddle  and  blow  no  longer." 


And  thus  the  Ballet  of  the  Nations  is  still  a-dancing. 


REPROnrCED  ANJ>    PRtNTED   BV 

THE  GRAPHIC   PHOTO  ENGRAVING  CO. 
LONDON 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


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